


Don't Go

by jonsasnow



Series: Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst?, F/M, Heartbreak, Tumblr Prompts, and stuff, fun-sized drabble, im sorry, its sad, jonsa, one line dialogue prompt, well more like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 11:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18234350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: “Don’t go where I cannot follow.”[One Line Dialogue Prompt]





	Don't Go

“Don’t go where I cannot follow.”

“We will see each other again,” he whispers, voice hoarse, fingers pressing gently into her wrist as he holds her, but his strength is waning. Each breath is turbulent. If she could breathe for him; if she could just take his pain and make it her own, maybe she could – maybe _they_  could have more time. 

“ _Please_ , Jon; stay with me.” The voice that comes out is desperate, sorrow laced into each syllable. This isn’t how the war is supposed to end. 

His fingers trail from her wrist to stroke the curve of her cheek. “You are the strongest woman I know, Sansa Stark. You will lead the North from this Winter.”

“I don’t want to,” she admits. “Not without you.” 

“Sansa,” he murmurs but before he can say another word, a cough wracks his body and blood spills from his lips. Time is running out. They are merely delaying the inevitable. He drops his hand back to hers. “We _will_  see each other again and you won’t be alone.”

Sansa huffs, a curl of air wisps away from her mouth. 

“You have Arya. Bran.” He tugs her so she lies down beside him. The ground is cold, a stinging pain felt even through her furs, and there is a distinct foul smell of burning flesh in the air. She can hear commotion just beyond the Godswood – cries, screaming, a symphony of how she feels right now. Sansa focuses on his eyes instead, on the grey depth that reminds her of a winter dawn, the way they crease when he smiles at her, so fond, so full of love it aches. How long did it take for them to find one another? How many years of loss and despair did they weather before the Gods granted them with one last reprieve? 

“You are not alone, Sansa,” he says firmly. “You will never be alone. Our love does not end with one lifetime.” He smiles and presses a hand to her rounded belly. “It lives on in him.” 

“Or her,” she reminds him, tears threatening to streak down her face.

Jon laughs, though it is an effort and he coughs fitfully once more. “Yes,” he manages after a moment. “Or her.” He presses a kiss to her lips; it will no doubt stain her lips red but she holds the kiss, deepening it to feel him once more, to feel like there is more than tonight. 

“Our child will be as beautiful as his mother, as strong as her; they will one day rule the North as a Stark.” 

“No,” Sansa says. “Half Stark, half Targaryen.” 

Jon sighs; this is an argument they have had many times. “Let the Targaryen legacy die with me, Sansa. Let them live their life as a Stark.” 

“You are not responsible for the crimes of your ancestors,” Sansa reminds him sternly. “But I will not have our child be ashamed of you, of your blood.” 

Before the night is over, Jon slips away from her, cradled in her arms, and she cries until her body gives in to sleep. The months that follow are tainted in darkness, in the memories he left behind, but he had tasked her with protecting their people and Sansa is determined to bring them out of this Winter. 

On the fourth moon after his passing, Sansa goes into labour. The pain of it reverberates through her, ripping her apart from the inside, and she nearly joins Jon far earlier than either of them thought. A part of wants to give in; a part of her still longs every day to return to him but the first wails of their child pierce the air and she is overcome with a love she thought she had lost. 

He was right, as he is seldom to be; their child _is_  a boy. 

Sansa names him Eddard Aegon Stark. He has her eyes but Jon’s unruly black hair. Arya has taken to stealing him whenever she gets the chance and it reminds Sansa that she is not the only one grieving him. It’s a comfort in the way that shared grief can be. 

Arya’s hatred of the name Aegon also makes her laugh, which she hasn’t done in moons, but though Jon had never gone by that name himself, it is still apart of him and Sansa is anything if not steadfastly stubborn. The Targaryens’ rule may be over and their legacy may be of blood and fire, but Jon was not like that. Jon was loving and kind; he was a man of his people and as much of a Stark as she is but he is also a Targaryen prince and Sansa refuses to let their son be ashamed of that part of his father, of his own ancestry. It is why she chooses the name. It is why she will defend it if she has to.

On the anniversary of his death, Sansa takes their son to the Godswood wrapped up in furs. She sits them by the base of the Heart Tree and starts at the beginning. 

“There once was a young boy named Jon Snow. He was a highborn bastard, loved by his father and his half-siblings – all for one. A young naive little girl who could not understand him and so she thought him haughty and proud. How wrong she would be.”


End file.
